


Mistaken Matters

by FairWinters_1108_GMW



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Femslash, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Not Epilogue Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8103817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairWinters_1108_GMW/pseuds/FairWinters_1108_GMW
Summary: After the Batttle of Hogwarts and the defeat of Voldemort, the Ministry of Magic is trying rid the magical community of all traces of Dark Magic and Dark Artefacts.
Meanwhile, Hermione and Ginny return to finish their last year at Hogwarts and as their friendship begins to turn into something more, an unexpected mistake could change everything.





	1. The Strange Vault

The white marble floor thudded beneath her standard-issue Auror boots as she entered the building. The boots were threadbare and the leather uppers were frayed in several areas, but she refused to replace what she deemed to be her lucky boots. She had performed countless Repairing Charms to the laces plus the soles were showing signs of the holes just beginning to form where her heels repeatedly struck the ground. They had seen months of action, especially after the mass breakouts from Azkaban in 1996 and 1997. They were with her as she tracked down numerous escapees, Death Eaters, and other various supporters of Voldemort. Sure she no longer had to wear them because she wasn’t working in the field anymore, but old habits die hard and these boots were well worn in and comfortable. 

The lobby floor of Gringotts Wizarding Bank was a much more forgiving surface and a more serene setting than what she was accustomed to. Her griffin-like eyes, ever on alert, scanned the room astutely. None of the goblins paid her any attention nor bothered to glance up from their paperwork to make eye contact as Amynta Myriadd and her team of four Ministry employees assigned to her for the day made their way to where they were to meet their goblin escorts. Myriadd followed the goblins, which included the Head Goblin of the bank, to where they were to load onto two carts that would take them to the vault they needed. She wasn’t particularly fond of the rickety contraptions and would much rather travel by broom, but there was no way the finicky goblins would ever allow that. 

The carts travelled along the tracks, delving deep down the dank, cavern-like passageways beneath bank to the vaults. The vaults were a complete opposite to the bright, light-filled lobby of Gringott’s. If not for the lanterns on the carts, the lower levels would be completely pitch black. Like every other time, relief could be seen on the Head Goblin’s face as the Thief’s Downfall had no effect on the passengers in the cart. The goblins had seemed extremely wary of any of the wizards and witches visiting the bank and on multiple occasions there were complaints from customers who were denied personal access to their vaults because of the tightened security measures.

It was a surprise they were allowed access to the bank at all. The goblins were at first reluctant to receive any aid from the Ministry to repair the bank, but after a lot of apologizing and attempts to make amends, explaining how necessary it was for the three teenagers to access the Lestrange vault in order to defeat Voldemort, the goblins accepted the Ministry’s offer.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little unsteady on her feet after disembarking the cart. Since the Ministry contracted a magical construction company to repair the damages that Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and a Ukrainian Ironbelly had caused when escaping from the bank after breaking into the Lestrange vault, the only noticeable difference when approaching the vault now was the absence of a dragon. Myriadd gazed at the large vault door, watching the Head Goblin, who was the only one now that could open the complex locking system of the vault.

The curses and enchantments normally employed by the goblins to protect the vault had been disabled, so Myriadd led her team into the last Death Eater vault the Ministry had left on their list to take inventory of and confiscate any Dark object within it. Normally this duty would belong to another division of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but the department had been swamped with work and everyone had to help out where they could. Since she had been taken out of the field, Myriadd and other office bound Aurors were picking up random odd jobs from other divisions. Because of the expanse of the Lestrange vault and the sheer number of suspicious objects within it, it had taken them the longest out of all of the vaults to complete.

“Come on, let’s finish this one up today,” said Myriadd, eagerly ushering her team into the vault. “I want to be done with it. It’s hot down here and I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.”

The mid-June heat made working in the tunnels underneath the bank an altogether unpleasant job. It was humid and the air was stagnant, almost as if it was as stale as the contents of the vaults. On top of that, the lack of natural sunlight also wasn’t appealing to an Auror who was used to being out in the field trailing Death Eaters. Inventory and paperwork felt like a life sentence in Azkaban for someone like Myriadd. The rivulets of sweat she could feel slowly meandering down her back didn’t add to the already unsavory atmosphere.

Nearing the end of a sweltering day cataloging artefacts to be removed from the vault, Myriadd levitated out four large stone tablets, carefully guiding them with her wand toward the wooden crates for transportation. These would go under the “potentially Dark object” category on her list because the wizard who was their Ancient Runes expert was not with them that day to tell her for sure if this was Dark magic related or not.

“Any idea what these could be about?” asked the other Auror on her team, nodding his head in the direction of the tablets as they floated on by him. He opened up a crate for the tablets to be stored in and wait for the next round of carts. Their Curse Breaker might know, but she had just gone with a cart loaded with crates back up to the surface. 

The Ministry had so many objects requiring translation that they were beginning to get backlogged with work. The tablets would likely be one of the many things to be taken to the Ministry before being shipped to their next destination to get examined and translated by an expert outside of the Ministry.

“Not a clue,” answered Myriadd, “but I’d rather this get closely examined and guarantee it’s not another Dark object out there to fall into the wrong hands. Anything the Ministry doesn’t take is going to next of kin, which is the Malfoys. No need to give it right back to a Death Eater if it’s dangerous, whether they’re reformed as they claim or not. I’m not about to take any chances.”

“Yeah, I was working in the Malfoy vaults last week. They had their fair share of questionable things.”

“From what I heard in the office, word is Harry Potter was after something that belonged to Voldemort himself and Bellatrix Lestrange was keeping it in her vault,” said Myriadd.  
“Hence the reason why I’ve been here for over a month scrutinizing over every single bloody thing in here.”

“I definitely don’t envy you,” he said, writing down the crate number and the description of the contents on the inventory list. “Most of the early vaults I worked on hardly had anything other than money inside them. It wasn’t until we started opening up vaults from Voldemort’s inner circle that we started finding more of the Dark objects. Only a few were nearly as extensive as this one though.”

“This one’s been a real pain. And the working conditions leave much to be desired,” she said as they packed up the third tablet.

The Auror nodded in agreement and prepped the crate for the fourth tablet to go inside. Myriadd examined it one more time before the crate was sealed up. She was certain the tablets were from the same place. The carved runes looked similar and each tablet was undoubtedly chipped away from a wall or column by the looks of the jagged edges and backsides. One even looked as if it had been broken in the process and mended poorly with a bad Repairing Charm.

The fourth tablet is what made them the most suspicious looking in Myriadd’s opinion. Instead of the simple rune inscriptions etched into the tablet, there was a picture chiseled into it, dominating the majority of the space on the tablet. It featured three women seated, each with something different resting in their laps. Whatever the women were holding didn’t look to be unusual to Myriadd; what disturbed her the most was the way their eyes seemed to pierce through her. Or maybe it was the unsettling feeling that someone was watching her as she examined the tablets.

“Do you notice anything strange about this picture?” she asked before they lowered it into the crate. The hairs on the back of her neck stood as she inspected the tablet. At eye-level the women were staring right back at her. “There’s something odd about it.”

“Not any more than some of this other stuff,” he replied, sliding the lid in place and sealing it up. “It all looks a little creepy to me.”  
She decided to ignore whatever feelings she was getting from the tablet and levitated the crate onto the goblin cart that just arrived. She thought it was probably due to spending too much time down in those tunnels and her unease was probably all in her head anyway. Those tablets were likely nothing more than some old tale about three women and some runes expert would get a good laugh at an Auror thinking they were anything dangerous. Now that they were packed away and ready to be shipped, they were someone else’s problem.

\-------------

Myriadd made a beeline to elevators after stepping out of the Floo in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. She could have waited to turn in the paperwork for the Lestrange vault, but she still couldn’t shake the odd feelings she had after discovering those tablets. She hoped that by being completely done with the assignment would mean they’d be out of sight and out of mind.

When the elevator announced they had reached Level Two, she exited and crossed the entrance lobby, briefly greeting the wizard working the front desk. Most of the workstations on the floor were empty. With every available Auror in the field, except those who were recovering from injury or still in training, the Auror Office section of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement looked like a ghost town; chairs were vacant, inkwells drying up, and neatly stacked files slowly collecting dust.  
Her desk was one of the few that had seen any usage in the past few weeks. In fact, hers looked more like a crash site. Her files were scattered haphazardly and quills were strewn across the desktop. Remnants from far too many take-away dinners were left about and she was certain some were beginning to sprout some type of unsanitary growth. Gathering up her dust-free files, Myriadd headed over to the large office in the corner.

“Robards, the Lestrange vault is finally finished,” she announced without even knocking.

Gawain Robards became the Head of the Auror Office after Rufus Scrimgeour took over as the Minister for Magic. Since taking over the position, the stress seemed to have really aged him if the patches of grey in his beard, deep wrinkles in his forehead, and circles under his eyes were anything to go by. His shoulder-length, ash brown hair also had grey peppered in it where there was none before.

“That’s excellent,” came his tired response, reaching out a hand to take the file from her. “That’s the last of ‘em then?”

Despite his haggard demeanor, Myriadd thought of Robards as a tough old dog with more bite than bark. She had started Auror training a year after he had been promoted to Auror and they had worked together on joint field missions over the years and always got on well. She supposed that was the reason the superior and subordinate relationship was more relaxed than typical in the office.

“Yeah, all known Death Eaters and those found guilty for crimes associated with Voldermort have had their vaults searched.”

“Good work,” said Robards, skimming the contents of the Lestrange file. “I knew I could trust you to get it all done efficiently. You’ve been a great help with this.”

“Well, I’d rather be out there chasing them down, not sifting through their bloody trinkets,” grumbled Myriadd.

“You know I can’t let you back in the field and this way you’re helping the office out before you go on to your next journey in life.” He smiled, trying not to appear like he was placating her too much.

“You mean my forced retirement?” she scoffed. “Or the only position I could get that didn’t involve being chained to a desk or a rocking chair knitting tea cozies?”

“I know how you feel, but retirement is loads better than the alternative,” said Robards. Since the Battle of Hogwarts, the ranks of active Aurors in the Auror Office had gotten thinner. The Death Eaters had become more violent than ever either in retribution for their fallen leader or in attempts to flee the country to escape the unavoidable sentencing to Azkaban and the Aurors were on the receiving end of their erratic behavior.

“I’d rather go down fighting like Mad-Eye.”

“You’ll still be following Mad-Eye’s footsteps in some respects and with two good legs at least,” he said, glancing down momentarily at his bad leg. “Look, let me at least take you out for a drink and a real meal other than that Muggle take-away you’ve been living on for the last two months.” 

Myriadd nodded in consent, though she wanted to comment that Mad-Eye Moody had actually spent most of that time inside of a magical trunk before rejoining the Order of the Phoenix. Just thinking about it, she could use a drink and probably a few more bottles of Firewhisky to prepare for the next “journey” she’d be facing.


	2. The Beginning

Hermione lay in the overgrown grass in the garden at the Burrow on a sunny afternoon, enjoying as much peace and tranquility as she could afford for the first time in almost a year. Even though no one had been here to tend to the garden, the flowers bloomed defiantly nonetheless. Vibrant buttercups, bright yellow and white daisies, red poppies, and meadowsweet littered the area surrounding her. On the other side of garden were a handful of plants like wormwood, dittany, asphodel, and moly that had magical purposes. She always loved the smell of the grass in the Weasleys’ garden the best and the way it seemed to bring about a sense of calmness.

It was mid-June now and after over month of clean up and repairs, they had finally celebrated the re-opening of Hogwarts a few days ago and had a memorial ceremony honoring those who fought and died in the battle. The past month had been an exhausting one for Hermione and the others. The worst part was the funerals. They had attended the funerals for Lupin, Tonks, Colin Creevey, and Lavender Brown. And once Harry explained to everyone how Snape had protected him all those years, they agreed to have a small service for him as well. Fred’s funeral had been the hardest for her. She had grown so close to the Weasley family over the years that she felt as if she had lost a brother herself.

With the threat of numerous Death Eaters who managed to escape after the Battle of Hogwarts still looming, Hermione felt it was unsafe to bring her parents back from Australia. This part brought her the most sorrow. She was so close to her parents, even if they didn’t always understand what was going on in the wizarding world, that their absence left an empty feeling in her heart. While hunting down the Horcruxes she barely had time to think about how much she missed her parents, but now she wished more than anything that they could be here with her to comfort her and reassure her. Harry suggested that they travel to get them, or at least restore their memories, and Hermione did consider it. Ultimately she did not want to risk it and decided waiting was the best option for now.

The sound of Ron’s steady footsteps broke through the white noise of the garden and made its way to her ears. She propped herself up slightly as he clumsily plopped down on the grass beside her. He lovingly smiled at her and she did so too in return, but she found hers was more forced compared to the genuine one he had. When Ron leaned back on his elbows, his hand brushed against hers for just a moment before she awkwardly changed positions. It briefly looked like he was bothered by her action, though he didn’t say anything about it. Hermione could tell he was trying to convince himself it was purely coincidence and not her voluntarily recoiling from him. She was sure her recent behavior would make it hard for him to believe that was the case.

While Ron was failing at quelling his fears, Hermione was struggling with her own internal battle. She couldn’t understand why it was so difficult for her to be close to Ron. They had been friends for years and she cared about him deeply, and she thought the affection she felt for him went beyond the brotherly feelings she had for Harry. So why did she feel something was not quite right? Being close to one another was supposed to be the natural progression in their relationship. At least that’s what she thought. She hoped sleeping with him would bring her that closeness she thought was missing from the relationship, yet the sex seemed to have only increase her doubts about the relationship and did little to improve the intimacy that she craved for.

“You missed Kingsley,” he said, finally able to break the uncomfortable silence that had grown around them that afternoon. As Interim Minister, Kingsley was recruiting new Aurors to replace those that were lost and to apprehend the last of the Death Eaters as swiftly as possible. “He came round to talk about joining the Aurors. Said anyone that’s of age and fought in the Battle can do an intensive six-month training starting next month.”

She had already spoken to Kingsley weeks ago about her options for her future. He had made several offers for potential ministerial positions she could take, including becoming an Auror. She thanked him for the consideration, but she wanted to defer starting a career until she completed her last year at Hogwarts and took her N.E.W.T.s, though many were of the opinion that she could take the tests now and ace them easily. Since she was adamant about her decision, there was no need for her to talk to Kingsley again.

“That’s excellent Ron,” said Hermione, “I’m sure you and Harry will do very well in training considering all the things we went through last year.”

“So you’re not coming with us?” he asked, a hint of sadness in his voice. He maneuvered his head in an attempt to make eye contact, but she avoided him and stared off into another part of the garden. 

She turned her attention to where the vegetable garden once was. This section unfortunately did not survive the absence of care. Hermione pictured the carrots, shriveled down beneath the surface of the earth. Their relationship in a way was like the undernourished carrots in the Weasley garden; a stalk, green as can be, hiding the signs of the distress taking place beneath the soil. Everyone was so pleased that the two friends had become boyfriend and girlfriend they failed to see the trouble that was causing their relationship to slowly rot away.

“I told you, I want to finish at Hogwarts and take my N.E.W.T.s,” she replied, trying to keep calm. She had explained to him numerous times that she was going back and did not want to discuss the topic again.

“Yeah, but you got the letter from McGonagall,” he continued, vaguely picking up her growing irritation with him. “You can take your N.E.W.T.s next month without having to spend a whole school year there. You’ll have no trouble passing, I know it. And that way we can still be together, you know. Not do that long distance thing.”

“I am well aware of that,” snapped Hermione, no longer disguising the displeasure in her voice. They were only going to be separated for ten months and she didn’t think it would jeopardize anything. They were friends for seven years and their relationship should be stronger than that. She was only an Apparition away anyway and there would be plenty of Hogsmeade weekends for them to meet up at. “I have made my decision, Ron. Why can’t you just respect that and be supportive of me?”

“Why are you doing this?” He started to sound angry himself and she could see the red flaring up in his cheeks and up the column of his neck. She should have anticipated him getting defensive and not let her own temper get the better of her. “Always pulling away from me, avoiding spending time with me, never talking to me. Hell, you spend more time with Ginny than me! I thought things would be different after Voldemort was gone, but every time I try to get close you act like you can’t stand to be around me.”

“It’s not like that!” she exclaimed. Though, in a way she knew he was right. 

Ron had become increasingly difficult for Hermione to be around lately and this was more than just her disquietude about her lack of intimate feelings for him. He would overreact to the simplest things or pick a fight with her over nothing. She wanted to be as sympathetic and understanding as possible with Ron because they were all having a tough time adjusting and he did just lose a brother, but it was slowly beginning to wear on her. They were grieving and dealing with things differently and she struggled to provide him with the affection he craved without wanting to withdraw. 

Hermione attempted to seek solitude and refuge in her books to help her cope, but the problem was staying at the Burrow with all the Weasleys hardly granted her alone time. If she wasn’t by herself in the garden, she would hole up in Ginny’s room where she was staying as usual. She often found solace with the youngest of the Weasley children because Ginny didn’t demand anything or expect anything other than occasionally consolation in return. She never foresaw this becoming a point of contention or something Ron would be jealous of.

When Hermione got up from her spot and walked back toward the house, Ron followed suit. “Even now you’re running away,” he shouted from behind her.

“I’m not running away,” she yelled back without looking back. She didn’t want him to see her eyes as they filled with tears. Maybe she was a little cowardly by avoiding more confrontation with him, but she didn’t have it in her to argue about this. “I just can’t deal with this right now. Don’t you understand?”

“Oh, I understand,” he sneered as he caught up to her before she got to the back steps. He reached out and grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn around and face him. They were standing merely inches apart and she had to tip her head back to meet his stormy blue eyes. “I understand that the great Hermione Granger doesn’t have time to deal with dumb Ron Weasley.”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” said Hermione, her voice straining and tears pouring down her face. She was shocked by his roughness and had given up trying to maintain composure, not that her heightened emotional state would have allowed it for very much longer anyway. “We’ve talked about this before. I’m not going to become an Auror. I want to complete my education at Hogwarts. You know this already.”

“This isn’t about bloody Auror training or Hogwarts. It’s about you and me. It’s about how bloody fucked up this relationship is,” spat Ron, his chest heaving in anger. He let out a frustrated growl and scrubbed his face with his hand. “We can’t keep doing this, Hermione. I’m tired of fighting just to be with you. I shouldn’t have to fight for your attention.”

“I don’t want you to have to fight for my attention, but sometimes I need time to myself.”

“Time to yourself with Ginny?” he said with cynicism.

“It’s her room!” stated Hermione, shocked he was accusing her of spending more time with his sister again. “I can’t keep her out of her own room.”

“Oh, but you can use it to keep away from me.”

“That’s not…” Hermione held in an exasperated sigh, “It won’t always be like this. I’m having a hard time right now. I just need you to be more patient with me. Please.”

Hermione hoped her plea would get through to him. She was mentally and emotionally drained and she wanted him to at least acknowledge that she was trying to make things work between them; to see how she did care for him even if she had been recently struggling to express it.

“I’m bloody sick of having to be patient, Hermione! How long am I going to have to wait?”

“What else do you want me to do?” Hermione sobbed, the pain and desperation clear in her voice.

“Nothing,” said Ron coldly. “It doesn’t matter anymore. This whole thing is bollocks. I’m done with this relationship and I’m done with you.” 

“Ron you… you can’t mean that.” Her words were barely audible. After all that they went through during their search for the Horcruxes she couldn’t believe he would give up on the relationship so easily. She knew that it had been difficult for them this past month, but she didn’t want to end things between them. “Just give me time. Things will get better.”

“No Hermione, it won’t. I’m tired of waiting for things to change.”

“Wait,” she pleaded, “I can be better. Please, don’t let go.” She reached out for his hand, but he had pulled away before they could make contact. “I can try harder. I just need more time.”

“I think it’s best we go our separate ways now. Harry and I leave for Grimmauld Place early tomorrow anyway.” He backed up a few steps and she noticed how he not only looked worn and saddened, but relieved as well, like he had been considering breaking up with her for some time and had been holding out for her to change and she never did. Without saying anything more Ron strode away swiftly back out into the garden, leaving Hermione alone on the back porch.

Hermione felt a sharp ache in her chest as his words sunk in. He was abandoning her for a second time. She felt worse now than when he took off leaving her and Harry in the forest, which she didn’t think was possible. Last time his moods and decisions were affected by the locket. This time he chose to leave her on his own; he was grateful to be free of her.

She threw open the back door, not even noticing the collection of shocked and concerned faces trying desperately hard not to make it obvious what they had overheard, and rushed straight up the stairs to the first landing and entered the door on the left. Once inside the bedroom she shut the door and slid down it till she was slumped on the floor. In the privacy of the room, Hermione let the emotional outburst hit her full force; tears overflowing down her cheeks and snot slowly trickling its way out of her nose, while she uncontrollably gasped for air in between loud sobs. She was so consumed by it that she failed to notice the girl lying on the bed.

“Hermione?” came a soft, caring voice from across the room.

Hermione shifted her gaze from the floor upwards to see Ginny lift her head off the pillow and look at her blearily. Hermione could tell from her red-rimmed eyes that she too had been crying.

Lately, for Hermione to see Ginny crying wasn’t as unusual as it normally would be. She was coming to terms with Fred’s death and it was at times a more difficult process for the young girl to endure than she was capable of. And because Ginny wanted to be strong for her family and Harry, as much as he tried, was awkward when he attempted to console her, she would find herself sitting with Hermione for moral support. The room had turned into a haven for the two girls when everything became too much.

“Oh Ginny, I’m so sorry,” said Hermione apologetically, quickly wiping the tears from her face and pulling herself up off the floor. She walked across the room over to the bed and sat down next to Ginny. Hermione’s face was splotchy and her hair had traded its tamed tresses for the frazzled mess it was in her younger years. “I didn’t think you would be up here, considering Harry is scheduled to leave tomorrow morning. I figured you would want to spend as much time as possible with him before he goes.”

“We, er… we broke up,” said Ginny, dejectedly. By the disbelieved look Hermione was giving her, she knew an explanation was in order. “I thought I loved him. And I suppose seeing him again at Hogwarts after worrying about him for such a long time, wondering if he was safe or not, brought out all these emotions during the battle. But after things started to settle down, we realized that it wasn’t the same between us. Since he’s moving to London and I’ll be back at Hogwarts we thought it best to take a break. Maybe if things change we might get back together, though I doubt it.”

Hermione was shocked at Ginny’s admission about her relationship troubles. She thought the pair had worked everything out after the battle and were on the road to marital bliss and a household full of little Potters. She was so caught up in her own personal problems that she was completely unaware of what they were going through and had neglected two of her best friends. She felt a little guilty for being so self-obsessed she had failed to see it.

She bent down and hugged Ginny. “Are you going to be okay?”

Ginny furrowed her eyebrows. “I feel like I should be the one asking you that. I take it Ron didn’t handle very well being told you weren’t moving to London with them and that you’re going back to Hogwarts to finish school? I overheard him talking to Harry after Kingsley left about the two of you finally being able to share a room,” Ginny scoffed at her brother’s one-track mind.

She couldn’t understand why her brother was being so thick about the whole situation. He should realize by now that education was one of the most important things in Hermione’s life and a way for her to return to any kind of normalcy would be to finish at Hogwarts and take the N.E.W.T.s. Hermione encouraged his decision to become an Auror, despite initially voicing her wishes for him to not immediately put himself in danger again. Apparently he was incapable of doing the same when he didn’t agree with her about returning to Hogwarts.

“No, not particularly,” said Hermione. She cast her eyes downward to the fidgeting hands in her lap and she could feel the sting of fresh tears forming in her eyes. “He dumped me.”

“He what?” asked Ginny incredulously. She could not believe what Hermione was telling her. She reached out and placed a hand on Hermione’s. “My brother is a daft prick. I give him a week before he realizes he just let the best woman go and then he’ll be on his knees begging for you to take him back. I should hex him. That’ll set him straight.”

“Thanks Ginny, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” she said, barely managing to give Ginny a grateful smile. “I think in the long run it would have happened anyway. Either that or we would have killed each other, or gone mental.”

“True,” said Ginny calming down. She loved her brother, but for whatever reason he and Hermione were not good together. Ginny couldn’t understand it. Hermione was an incredibly intelligent and strong person. She was kind and gentle and thoughtful. Hermione was always there for Ginny when she needed her. Even now, after being dumped she was more concerned for Ginny than herself. What was wrong with Ron? Maybe he got hit in the head during the battle and should be taken to St. Mungo’s to have it examined.

“Maybe there is something about me, maybe I wasn’t enough for him,” contemplated Hermione, talking more to herself than to Ginny. The tears increasingly trickled down her cheeks unfettered and she let her vision go out of focus. It pained her to think of how terribly she had failed at their relationship; how much she had let Ron down.

It was hard for Ginny to watch the tears roll off Hermione’s face and splash against the hands in her lap. She didn’t know what she could do to help her friend, but wished there was something other than sitting there. Usually when they were in her room, they would sit there in silence or Hermione would hug her if she started to cry. At the moment, Hermione looked inconsolable and Ginny knew it had to be a culmination of the stress and grief of everything that happened in the last year and now she was mourning the end of her relationship on top of that.

Ginny moved over to the other side of the bed and pulled Hermione’s slack body down to lay next to her. Whenever she was upset or woke up from a nightmare, her mum would tuck her back into bed and wrap her up in her arms, making Ginny feel safe like nothing in the world could get to her. Maybe if she did the same thing for Hermione, she could erase some of the hurt and pain her friend was feeling now. Ginny reached her top arm around Hermione’s body so that they were practically spooning. 

Hermione continued to cry as she was laid down on the bed. She placed her head onto Ginny’s pillow and felt an arm come around her waist. There was warmth and security in the embrace and she longed to be enveloped in it. She scooted back further into the body behind her. Ginny didn’t say anything to her, but she didn’t need her to. Hermione was comforted by her presence alone. She put her hand on top of Ginny’s and interlaced their fingers. 

They lay so close to one another that every breath Ginny took was filled with the smell of Hermione’s floral scented hair. Hermione’s fingers wove into hers and Ginny was reassured that she was giving Hermione the solace she needed. Though the girls had never shared her bed before, the position felt natural for Ginny like they had been doing it all along. She could feel Hermione’s body shake as she cried into her pillow. She didn’t know if it was her own sadness or her channeling Hermione’s pain, but she silently started to cry as well. Ginny didn’t know what compelled her when she gently kissed the back of Hermione’s shoulder.

Hermione wasn’t certain, but she thought she felt Ginny kiss her shoulder. It was tender and she could feel the affection radiating from it. The soothing effect was making her worries of Ron slowly fade away. She forgot about any thoughts of her troubles with intimacy as she immersed herself in Ginny’s love. After a few minutes, Hermione was completely relaxed in Ginny’s arms and she closed her eyes, allowing the exhaustion from crying to take over her.

The crying subsided and Ginny felt Hermione’s breathing steadily even out and deepen. Knowing that her friend was asleep and that she would be all right for the night, Ginny pulled up the blanket at the bottom of the bed with her feet and her free arm, doing the best she could to cover them both without disturbing Hermione. Not even considering the fact that she would miss dinner, Ginny let herself fall asleep with Hermione in her arms.


	3. Look Left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for reading the story so far. Most of it is already written, so it needs final edits and to be beta read. I should be posting every weekend and if I'm making good progress on the later chapters I might be able to post more frequently.
> 
> I tried to stick as closely to the books as possible with the exception of the epilogue. I apologize for any mistakes or spelling/grammar errors. Comments and constructive reviews are welcomed.

The incessant chatter of magpies roused Hermione from her sleep in the most irksome way possible. She had been dreaming that she and Ron were enjoying the most perfect date. She kept her eyes shut tightly, desperately trying to fall asleep again and slip back into the dream. It was no use; the magpies were way too loud and her eyelids did little to block out the brightness of the mid-morning sky.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and saw the hand in her own was too small to be Ron’s. It was then that she remembered he had left her and the dream would never come to fruition. Instead, the warm body pressed against hers was Ginny’s, not Ron’s. Afraid she would wake Ginny up, Hermione put a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound of her sobs. She was temporarily relieved she didn’t wake her up, but her movement made Ginny pull her in closer and a leg casually draped over her right one.

This was an awkward position to find herself in and Hermione was trying to figure out how best to wriggle out of Ginny’s clutches without waking her. At least this distracted her from her crying. She didn’t want to spend her days crying and sinking further into a depressed mood. Ginny was there to help her move on, albeit a little closer than Hermione intended. It was no use, no matter how hard Hermione tried, she could not get Ginny to loosen her grip.

“Ginny,” hissed Hermione, nudging the arm around her. “Ginny wake up.”

The leg that Ginny had over Hermione’s began to move, but to Hermione’s misfortune it traveled upwards instead of off of her. Hermione started to panic as the leg was only inches away from her crotch. She went to slip out of the bed quickly, not even a bit concerned about waking Ginny at this point, but her foot was caught in the sheets. She ended up stumbling backwards, taking most of the blanket with her, and landed on the floor with a loud thud.

Ginny sat straight up at the sound of Hermione crashing to the floor, an alarmed look on her face, and reached for her wand. She relaxed when she saw Hermione enfolded in the blanket and her expression turned to one of bewilderment. “What happened? Are you okay? Why are you on the floor?”

“I’m on the floor because you’re a bed hog,” Hermione lied, not wanting to tell her friend that she was about to touch a very intimate part of her body.

“Sorry about that,” said Ginny blushing slightly. “It could have been worse. Harry has told me I practically smother him to death sometimes when I wrap myself around him. Either that or kick. When Ron and I were babies I used to kick him while we slept together in the crib.” She regretted her words as soon as she saw Hermione’s face flinch at the mention of his name. “Oh, I didn’t mean to bring him up.”

Hermione attempted to compose her face to something a bit more neutral and not so somber. She knew she needed a distraction to keep her from moping around the Burrow that day and she wasn’t particularly keen on being around when Ron and Harry left and she figured Ginny might feel the same.

“It’s all right,” she lied again, “If it’s okay though, I’d rather not have to eat breakfast with them.”

“Okay,” Ginny agreed, “What did you have in mind?”

“There’s a Muggle café, near Diagon Alley. I would eat there with my parents when we’d go to buy school supplies. I was thinking we could do some shopping after we eat.”

“That sounds good,” said Ginny, hopping out of the bed and getting some clothes from her wardrobe. “We’ll have to let Mum know before we go. Hopefully she won’t worry about letting us go alone, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

As she watched Ginny continue to pull her clothes out of the wardrobe, it dawned on Hermione that they both still wore the clothes from the day before. Ginny must have slept with her throughout the night. Thinking it was sweet of Ginny to have stayed, she gave her friend a hug.

“What was that for?” asked Ginny, taken aback by the seemingly random hug.

“For being a good friend,” she replied and then kissed Ginny on the cheek before heading to the bathroom to change into fresh clothes for the day.

\-------------

Nearly everyone who was in the Weasley household the night before had heard the argument between Hermione and Ron on the back steps, so Mrs. Weasley didn’t hesitate to acquiesce when the girls requested to spend the day in London as long as they promised to not stay out too long and that they’d help her the next few days to properly clean the house. 

Ginny begrudgingly accepted, while Hermione was more than happy to oblige. When Hermione learned that Mrs. Weasley had cared for Crookshanks during the trio’s hunt for Horcruxes and that she even brought him along to live at Aunt Muriel’s after the Burrow had to be abandoned, she was ecstatic. She should have known the woman who treated her and Harry as one of her own would also extend her nurturing tendencies to the half-Kneazle. In exchange, Hermione wanted to be as helpful as possible to Mrs. Weasley during her stay at the Burrow.

After using the Floo to get to the Leaky Cauldron, the girls decided to eat at the café just down the road on the Muggle side. Ginny noticed Hermione’s wistful look during their breakfast and knew she was thinking about her parents, so she suggested that Hermione show her around the Muggle part of London instead of going back to Diagon Alley. Although she didn’t share her father’s enthusiasm for Muggle inventions, Ginny was curious to learn more about Muggle culture. When she expressed this interest, Hermione quickly paid for their meal and led her out of the café.

“I assume you know where you’re going,” panted Ginny as she tried to keep up with Hermione. At the pace she was walking it was like they were trying to inconspicuously evade Death Eaters hot on their trail.

“Yes, my parents drove us here one time after visiting Diagon Alley,” said Hermione over her shoulder. Ginny saw a small smile creep across her face. “It’s really the perfect place to start if you want to learn about Muggle culture. I don’t know why I didn’t think to do this before.”

Ginny was pleased with herself at her ability to turn Hermione’s mood around with the simple suggestion. It was short lived at the mention of driving. She had been so busy trying not to lose Hermione that she hadn’t paid any attention to the vehicles on the road. The speeding cars driving up and down the street made her uneasy, especially when one with a sign saying “taxi” on the front honked loudly at another. She wasn’t particularly fond of the Ford Anglia her father had. How Muggles ever became comfortable travelling in cars was beyond Ginny. She guessed this was exactly how Hermione felt about riding a broom.

“Here we are,” announced Hermione proudly and slightly out of breath as well.

If Ginny had any suspicions about the reason Hermione was so excited, it was confirmed by the bookshop that they were now standing in front of. The bookshop, which was multiple stories tall, was larger than any Ginny had seen before and was nestled between an equally large bank and some shops with flats on the upper floors. It had these black-framed rectangular windows that spanned the entirety of the building on every floor. Ginny didn’t get much more of a chance to appraise the outside of the building because Hermione promptly pulled her inside.

For the next couple hours, Ginny followed Hermione up and down the aisles of the shop as Hermione pulled out book after book from the shelves. Most of them appeared to be fiction novels, but there were also some about art, music, and even some Muggle films. When neither girl could hold any more books in their arms, Hermione reluctantly went to pay for their haul. The clerk eyed them suspiciously, no doubt questioning their ability to travel with such a heavy load, but rang them up nevertheless. 

“Do you want to eat lunch in the park we passed by earlier?” asked Ginny, shaking out her sore arms now that they were relieved of their duty and all of the books stored inside Hermione’s beaded bag. “Maybe you can tell me about some of those books I had the pleasure of lugging around.”

The playful nature of Ginny’s of complaint was endearing as opposed to Ron’s outright whingeing about anything related to reading and since Ginny didn’t utter a single thing about being dragged around the shop, she felt her friend deserved some gratitude. “Lunch would be nice, and thank you for helping me with the books. I meant to only buy one or two. I guess I got a little carried away. I’m sure that’s not what you had in mind when you said Muggle culture, but I’d love to discuss the books with you.” 

Her voice trailed off at the end when she saw Ginny intently staring down at the crosswalk. Perhaps her friend was more annoyed with wasting her morning in the bookshop than she had let on. “Ginny, is everything all right?”

“Yeah, sorry,” said Ginny quickly, hoping to quell the apprehension in Hermione’s voice, which did not go unnoticed. “I was thinking how odd it is that the crosswalk says ‘Look Left’ on one side and then on the other side it says ‘Look Right.’ They don’t write that in the streets of Ottery St. Catchpole.”

Hermione knew the Weasleys, like many wizarding families, didn’t spend a lot of time walking around Muggle London. “It’s to prevent the pedestrians getting hit by cars,” she explained. “There are a lot of tourists who come from countries where they drive on the other side of the road. It’s not uncommon for them to check for traffic the wrong direction before crossing the street.”

Had she known of Ginny’s concerns about cars from this morning, she would have refrained from laughing when Ginny markedly looked to the left before walking across the street and into the park. “What?” asked Ginny, scowling at Hermione’s reaction. “I don’t fancy a trip to St. Mungo’s because some Muggle hit me with their car.”

“Shhh, I’m sorry,” said Hermione trying to placate Ginny. She didn’t want anyone in the park to overhear them. “How about I go grab us some food and you find us a nice spot to eat. Then you can pick a book and I’ll read it aloud when we’re done eating?”

This seemed to pacify her, so Hermione went over to the deli on the corner and bought them some sandwiches, a packet of crisps, and a container of seasonal fruit. She knew how much Ginny liked ham and cheese sandwiches, not that any of the Weasley children were very picky about what they ate.

Ginny strolled down one of the paths going through the park. The park was full of tall, mature trees, providing shade and coolness against the harsh rays of the sun. This was good because Ginny wouldn’t be able to cast any charms to protect her fair skin from burning in a Muggle park. She picked a tree, which had a very gnarled trunk compared to any that grew at the Burrow. It was far away enough from the path that passing Muggles wouldn’t overhear them if they started talking about anything magical, but close enough that she could sit there and observe them until Hermione returned with lunch.

One thing Ginny liked about people watching in Muggle areas was the differences in fashion. She discovered they tended to wear a lot of black, which she thought was a bit depressing. With the exception of school robes, witches and wizards wore fairly colorful outfits. It would also explain why so many had troubles fitting in with Muggles when they wore multi-colored pieces if varying patterns. Ginny thought she could easily pass as a Muggle, although it was hard to go wrong with denims and a t-shirt. Hermione didn’t wear dark colors often and Ginny found her flowery summer dress to look quite lovely on her.

“I think I have a blanket we can sit on in here somewhere,” said Hermione, sifting through her beaded bag once she arrived. She was unable to find a blanket, but a towel would work just the same.

“Are you sure there’s not a table and chairs in there as well?”

“Yes, I’m sure there are no tables or chairs,” huffed Hermione, “but I think you can hire deck chairs here if you wanted.”

“What, those things over there?” she asked, gesturing at a couple lounging not too far off. “It took him at least 10 minutes to figure out how to use it. I can see why Dad is so fascinated by Muggle contraptions. Even the furniture needs step-by-step instructions with pictures to assemble it.” 

After they ate, Hermione proceeded to go through and give her a quick synopsis on each book. Ginny could barely focus on what she was saying because the way Hermione lit up when talking about the books was distracting. They all sounded so captivating to Ginny, who had only grown up with wizarding books. There was one about a girl and her adventures in a place called Wonderland, another about these sword-wielding Musketeers, one even had wizards that did magic and a ring of power, and a book about a prince disguised as a pauper. There were several more and Ginny was going to have a difficult time picking one.

Unfortunately, Ginny didn’t get to hear any of the book she had chosen. By the time Hermione finished describing all of the books, it was time for them to head back to the Burrow. Once Ginny picked a book and they packed the rest of them into the beaded bag, careful so no onlookers saw the countless books that went into the small bag, they went back to the Leaky Cauldron to use the Floo.

\-------------

The next day, after a morning full of strenuous cleaning, the girls decided to have lunch in the garden so Hermione could start reading to Ginny like she had promised at the park. Ginny was a few paces ahead of her as she marched behind with the book and food. The further they walked into the garden, the taller the grass became, and the less she recognized. Hermione never ventured very far into the Weasley garden and was unsure where Ginny was taking her. She did catch a slightly sweet smell in the air that she hadn’t noticed any of the other times she’d sat in the garden.

Finally, when they reached the back wall of the garden, Ginny climbed through a V-shaped gap and stopped just on the other side. The gap wasn’t a large one; merely several missing stones from the wall, which had probably fallen out at some point in time and were now piled haphazardly on the ground below the gap.

Ginny extended her hand over the wall, first to take the food and then again to help Hermione through. Hermione was impressed as Ginny pulled out her wand and did a spell to trim the grass around the base of a tree that stood next to the wall. There were so many spells and charms for her to learn and since she no longer had to concentrate on spells to defend herself, she could take the time to learn some of the ordinary, everyday ones.

She took the time to appreciate the moment as she deeply breathed in the smell of the freshly shorn grass. It was no surprise to Hermione why she could smell it in the Amortentia. Even now it could still transport her to simpler days, days before Hogwarts and fighting, when she would help her mother in the garden while her father cut the grass. He insisted on using one of those old-fashioned push mowers instead of a gas-powered one, claiming he was carrying on a tradition from his father. She was grateful her memory of the scent was unmarred by the over-bearing stench of gasoline. Hermione hoped that she would be able find her parents and reverse the memory charm on them, just to give them one more day in the garden together as a family.

Departing from thoughts of the past, Hermione glanced over the tree as she fumbled around in her beaded bag for the blanket she had packed for them to sit on. It was a rather tall tree and the trunk was not much wider than herself. The ground beneath it was littered with dark green, oblong leaves and large, cream-colored flower petals. And whatever she had smelled while walking though the garden was emanating from this tree.

They spread a blanket across the newly shorn grass. Both girls found a place to sit on the blanket and though the ground sloped slightly, it was a fairly comfortable place to sit. Ginny positioned herself next to the trunk of the tree and leaned up against it, her legs going downhill and crossed at the ankles, and beside her sat Hermione with her feet tucked underneath her. The ample amount of shade beneath the tree provided them with protection from the heat of the summer sun.

“I’ve never invested much time in household spells,” said Hermione, pulling out their lunch and the lemonade they had packed.

“Mum taught that one to me after Dad tried to charm a Muggle lawn mower,” chuckled Ginny. “She was so mad after it mowed over her flower beds that she blew it up.”

Hermione laughed heartily at the image of a charmed lawn mower and an irate Mrs. Weasley. “I assume lawn mowing is something she does along with de-gnoming?”

“Yeah, she never trusted him to do it again,” said Ginny, laughing even more.

Once the laughter died down, Hermione pondered about their chosen lunch venue. “Why did you take me here to eat? I’ve never been on this side of the garden.”

“Well, speaking of gnomes, there are none over here for us to worry about,” began Ginny. “They’re quite dumb and after you throw them over the garden wall they trudge right on back to the same spot every time and they love Mum’s hedges; good coverage for them. Secondly, no one comes to bother me when I’m here or maybe they’ve never thought to look for me here. Either way is fine with me. And thirdly, this is my favorite tree on the property.”

Hermione reached out and picked up one of the flower petals. It was sort of waxy feeling, but it was the smell of citrus mixed a hint with vanilla that gave it away. “Magnolia,” she said softly, letting the petal float back down to the ground.

“Yes,” said Ginny, grinning broadly at the recognition, “I love the way it smells.”

They ate in silence for a bit, Hermione taking in the scenery from the viewpoint under the magnolia and Ginny lost in thought about their excursion in Muggle London. She examined the book that she selected and slowly traced her finger over the raised letters on the cover.

“This is one of my favorites,” said Hermione when she saw Ginny’s subtle movements, “If I could really say that I have any. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” began Ginny, waiting to see if she got any objections. When none was given, she carried on, “Why did you buy so many books? I know it’s a silly question seeing as how you love books and all, but I assume you’ve read all of these before by the way you described each of them. Why would you be buying them now?”

Hermione audibly exhaled the breath she had been holding in anticipation to whatever it was Ginny was going to ask her. One thing about being with Ginny and not the boys was Hermione would have to get used to the fact that Ginny was much more perceptive than Ron or even sometimes Harry.

“Yes, I have read them all,” said Hermione mournfully. “When I erased myself from my parents’ memories and planted the idea for them to move, all of my Muggle books went with them. I couldn’t justify taking them with me at the time.” Hermione’s voice faltered and she took a deep breath to steady herself. “Having the books my parents read to me as a child is like I have a part of them with me. I know that even though they’re safe and alive because of what I did, I still miss them a lot.”

Ginny saw the tears forming in Hermione’s eyes and gently pulled her close. She could feel the few tears that escaped soak into the fabric of her shirt where Hermione was resting her head. Ginny didn’t want her to hurt, but was glad that she could be a comfort just as Hermione had been for her with Fred’s death.

To distract herself from feeling sad, Hermione opened the book and started reading it to Ginny. They stayed out on the blanket under the magnolia tree until the diminishing sunlight made it too difficult to read any further.

For the next couple of days, the girls continued their routine of cleaning in the morning and reading underneath the magnolia tree in the afternoon. Hermione asked Mrs. Weasley to teach her some basic household and cooking spells as well. She had successfully learned peeling and slicing. Dicing was a different story, unless the recipe called for unevenly-sized wonky rhombuses instead of something more like a cube. And mincing mostly sent bits of food flying off the cutting board and onto every surface within a three-foot radius. Cleaning was manageable, but definitely harder than just snapping one’s fingers.

On the fourth day of cleaning, George and Charlie came around to lend a hand and Hermione gladly watched them throw the Quaffle around in the afternoon instead of the usual reading session. It was nice to see the three Weasley siblings have a good time together. Charlie had postponed returning to Romania till the end of the summer to help George around the shop. She was certain she knew no other family to stick together like the Weasleys did. Even Percy came through in the end and was making an effort to visit the Burrow more often and would bring his girlfriend, Audrey, along for an occasional dinner. Sadly, the lack of joking and laughter from George was a constant reminder of Fred’s absence.

Ginny paused mid-flight to smile and wave enthusiastically at Hermione before zipping off again on her broom. Hermione admired how graceful a flyer she was. It wasn’t that Hermione couldn’t fly, it was just one of the few things she had attempted in life that she never fully mastered. Sure she could fly if she had to in a pinch, but Ginny made it look so natural she could only admire it.

\-------------

“You should sleep over here. That lumpy, old bed isn’t nearly as comfortable and there’s plenty of room for us to share. Plus,” said Ginny, pointing to the book they were reading in the garden that was sitting on the night stand, “it’ll be much easier for you to read to me.”

All evidence of Ginny being the youngest and only girl out of the Weasley children was in play as she tried to persuade Hermione to share her bed. Unfortunately for Hermione, her resolve to resist against Ginny’s charming smile and pleading, cinnamon brown eyes was weak. Hermione would have to admit that she felt more at ease around Ginny.

It occurred to her that she had rarely spent much time alone with Ginny before this summer. Usually she was around Ginny in a group and during the school year Ginny had her own friends to hang out with. And even though Hermione had stayed with Ginny in her room or at Grimmauld Place before, they didn’t become particularly close like she was with Harry and Ron. Now without the boys there, Hermione really felt like she and Ginny were bonding more in the past few days than they ever had. In fact, she might go as far to say she was beginning to prefer Ginny’s company over Ron’s.

“Okay, but only one chapter. I don’t want to be up all night,” said Hermione, giving in to Ginny and clambering onto the bed with the book. “And hopefully this time I won’t get smothered in my sleep.”

Ginny’s face turned pink at the reminder of her sleeping habit. 

“I guess if I want to cuddle with you, I’ll have to do it now, while you’re still awake,” she joked, sliding over so she was right next to Hermione.

“I suppose I can tolerate some minor cuddling,” said Hermione with an air of mock forbearance against saying otherwise. A gentle smile played across her lips as she looked at Ginny while situating herself on the bed. “I’m just glad you like the book enough to keep listening to it.”

It was satisfying for Ginny to see Hermione smile, especially when it signified that she was happy, which was an emotion that had been absent in Hermione and the Weasley household in general. She knew it would be at least a couple of weeks till Hermione would be laughing and smiling like the care-free teenager she was supposed to be. Still, Ginny decided to make it a personal mission of hers to bring back happiness into Hermione’s life and hers as well.

“Unlike my brother I know how to appreciate a good book.”

Hermione had said only one chapter, but because Ginny was listening with such rapt attention, she continued to read into the night. When her audience had finally fallen asleep, she put the book down and turned out the lights. As Hermione nestled against Ginny, she felt an arm snake its way around her waist. The unconscious action gave Hermione comfort and she slept better that night than she had all week.

 

As July came to a close, the girls spent their remaining time much like they had; helping around the Burrow, playing Quidditch (watching in Hermione’s case), and reading both in the garden and Ginny’s bed at night. In the past few weeks since Ron had left for Grimmauld Place, Hermione found the closer she was with Ginny, the less she thought about Ron. But the end of July also meant the birthdays of Harry, Ginny, and Percy. And with birthdays came birthday parties and birthday parties meant one thing for Hermione: having to see Ron.


End file.
